Angel
by Anonymous033
Summary: She's sitting at the bar, pondering over the broken pieces of her life, when her Knight in Shining Armour comes along. Set after 8x17: One Last Score.


**Summary: She's sitting at the bar, pondering over the broken pieces of her life, when her Knight in Shining Armour comes along.**

**Disclaimer: If I gift this to Bellisario, do I get to own NCIS for an hour? No? Oh :(**

**Spoilers: Somalia, Ray, EJ.**

**Mmm not too sure about this. Hope you enjoy it, and please review!**

**-_Soph_**

**_

* * *

_**

**Angel**

Relationships. She's not good at those. What she's good at is sitting in a bar and drinking herself silly. So when Gibbs lets them off work that's the first thing she does. Sit in a bar and torture herself by imagining Tony and EJ together. Drink herself silly as she ponders over her failed relationships; with her mother, with Ari, with the various men whose lives have been tragically cut short because they have had the misfortune of knowing her. She's the Jinx. The Ill Omen. The Grim Reaper. The Angel of Death. She snorts at that. No one in their right mind would ever call her an angel.

Her index finger traces the rim of her glass, and she ignores the rest of the patrons in the room. Men come up and speak to her. They might as well be wisps of cigarette smoke for all the attention that she pays them. Then she feels the gust of cold wind that tells her the door has been opened. Someone's coming in. Going out. Whatever. A shadow moves up to the bar, orders a drink. Sits down beside her. Her hand continues with its slow, circular movements. One round, two rounds. She can't stop. Her world will fall apart the moment she stops. The shadow speaks.

"Ziva."

She doesn't look up. Doesn't stop. "Tony," she says carefully. Another round.

"What are you doing here?"

"Drinking." Obvious is always the safest answer.

"How many drinks have you had?"

"Not enough for it to matter to you." Round and round.

"If you're drunk it would matter to me."

Her finger freezes for a split second before it carries on with its journey. "I am not drunk."

"But you're upset. And that with the abundant supply of alcohol is not a good thing."

"Go away."

"No."

Her head snaps up to him. Her eyes flash, and she forgets her tracing movements. "Go _away_, Tony."

His expression is sombre. "Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"It is none of your business."

"It is my business, because I'm your partner, and partners have each other's backs."

"Where is your girlfriend?"

"What?" He is caught off-guard.

"Your girlfriend. _Agent Barrett_." She hisses the name. It is poison to her lips.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"I am sorry; I meant 'the girl you would like to sleep with'."

He clenches his teeth. "Ziva, stop acting like a kid."

She gets up abruptly and almost knocks her glass over. Throws some bills onto the counter. "Goodnight, Tony." She doesn't let him see the tears in her eyes as she walks away from him.

And once she's in her car she's doesn't know what to do anymore. She's not too drunk to drive home. But she doesn't want to go home right now; doesn't want to face the emptiness, the silence, the lonely feeling that consumes her in the middle of the night. The pitch blackness that eats up everything and reminds her that yes, she does deserve to be alone. What ever happened to the American Dream? She isn't asking for two children, a dog, and a white picket fence. But she certainly wishes she has a man to have and to hold, to love and to cherish.

Dreams are for the innocent.

She's not an angel.

She's started the engine and is about to drive away when someone knocks on her window. She doesn't need to look to know it's him. She considers driving away anyway, but something holds her back. Something that ticks away deep in her heart, that tugs at her conscience. That makes her physically ache at the very thought of ever leaving him behind. She sighs and glances out the window; double-checks.

It's him. She pops the lock, and he clambers clumsily into the passenger seat, and shuts the door hurriedly. "God, it's cold out there."

"You were the one who chose to go out into the street." Her voice is calm, holds none of her previous anger.

"It's a bit hard to get to your car without doing that."

"You know what I mean, Tony."

"I do. And you know what I meant when I asked you what you were doing at the bar."

It is true. She keeps silent and looks away.

"Ziva, will you just tell me what's wrong?"

"Is it so important that you know?"

"It's very important."

"Why?"

"Because you don't look so pretty with your face all set like that."

"Get out."

"I was joking." She holds back a sigh, or a sob, or whichever is threatening to fall from her lips. She's tired all of a sudden. And then without warning, his hand is caressing her face; his thumb is playing with a corner of her mouth. Her eyes widen as they fly up to him, shocked. "You're actually very beautiful."

She lowers her eyes and swallows her tears. "You should be with Agent Barrett right now," she tells him thickly.

His hand drops back into his lap. "She's got stuff to do."

"So I am your backup plan."

"No. The bar was my backup plan. I just happened to see you there." She turns her head, stares out the window on her side. Looks at the lights, and at the people walking down the street. Anything to stop herself from crying. Only fools cry. "But I'm glad I did, because Ray obviously isn't taking good enough care of you. Why is he letting you mope around alone in a bar?"

"It is none of his business whether I am moping."

"It probably is, since he's your boyfriend."

"What makes you so sure he is my boyfriend?"

"Uh, the fact that you take ski trips with him?"

"What if I tell you that I do not?"

"I would say you're lying."

"Then you are stupid."

He pauses. "You really don't take ski trips with him?"

"No."

"Is that a negation of my question or-"

"No. I do not take ski trips with him."

"Then where do you go?"

"Skiing. Alone."

"Well you could've brought me along. I have a lot of comp time to use up."

"I do not want to kill you."

He hesitates, confused. "What?"

"We both know if I spend too much time with you I will end up killing you."

"That's your reason for not bringing me along?"

"Yes."

"I think you're lying."

"When has that ever mattered to you?"

"Now."

His tone makes her turn around, surprised, and she regrets it the moment she does because his face is dead serious and his green eyes are gazing intensely into her own and it is too close to Somalia for comfort; too close to 'couldn't live without you'. And the ticking in her heart swells to become a drumming, and there's a rushing sound in her ears, and her whole person is lit on fire.

A single look is all she needs to remember why she loves him.

"Please leave me alone." Her voice catches.

"Can't let you drive home in this state, Ziva."

"I will be fine."

"I'm more worried about the tree you might wrap your car around." She thuds her head against her seat, and a breath of air escapes her lips. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. I meant…I can't bear seeing you so sad."

"You have always been able to bear it. Why stop now?"

"Because you matter."

Her drumming heart flies into her mouth. "And Agent Barrett?"

"Barrett's intriguing at first sight, not so much afterward."

"You do not want to sleep with her?"

"Well I do, but it's not exactly like I love her."

She thinks about that. "Okay."

"Will you tell me what's wrong or not?"

She draws her legs up to her chest and wraps her arms tightly around them, seeking comfort. "I kill people, Tony," she says quietly.

"I think I'm aware of that."

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "No. I mean I kill the people I love. Roy. Michael. People who come into close contact with me die."

"I'm not dead."

"You almost died, in Somalia." A tear rolls down her cheek, and she pretends that it isn't there, so he can pretend that he doesn't see it. "And that is why, when Ray wants to get together, I say no. He is a good man who does not deserve to die. But now I regret it."

"Because he deserves to die after all?"

"No. Because then I am left alone."

"I'm here."

"You have Agent Barrett."

"Ziva, how many times-"

"There are other women. One day, you will meet one who is more than intriguing at first sight."

"That's not gonna happen."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've already met her."

"Oh." Her voice is small, and her heart stops drumming. Stops beating at all, in fact. "Congratulations."

"Why the hell are you congratulating me?" he asks in exasperation.

"You have met the woman you love."

"Yeah." He places his hand under her chin and gently makes her look at him. "And she's you."

A second tear escapes her tight control, and she bites down on her lip in frustration. "This is not funny, Tony," she barely chokes out. "I cannot handle this right now."

"I'm not trying to be funny. I'm telling you the truth."

"Mockery is not the truth."

"_I'm not mocking you. _Believe it or not, Ziva, sometimes people do fall in love you."

"And they all end up dead," she whispers heartbrokenly. "Tell me you are lying. I do not want to watch you die."

"You're not gonna watch me die! For one thing, if you end up killing me I'm bringing you down with me so you can be sure you don't have to worry about it."

She blinks tearily. "What is the other?"

"The other thing is I'd rather die for you than as a result of Gibbs overworking us."

She can't help but to smile at that. "Be careful, Tony. He has ears everywhere."

"Yeah. But you smiled."

Her smile wavers. "Why?" she asks faintly; she doesn't mean for him to hear her.

"Because not loving you is harder."

She rests her head on her knees. "Oh." Softly.

"Yeah." He leans over awkwardly and presses a startlingly gentle kiss to her cheek. His breath is hot against her ear as he whispers to her. "And because you're my angel."


End file.
